


Read Between the Lines

by CaneofDirtyhands



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Dutch is in a gang, Hosea and Arthur have a bookstore, It’s the same world but a lot of the stuff is different, Kinda, M/M, Young Arthur Morgan, Young Dutch van der Linde, Young Hosea Matthews, Young John Marston
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25495876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaneofDirtyhands/pseuds/CaneofDirtyhands
Summary: Hosea Matthews, along with his adoptive teenage son, Arthur Morgan, own a humble little bookshop on the outskirts of Saint Denis.Dutch van der Linde, a notorious name with no face to match with it, has arrived in Saint Denis and is searching for something that Hosea’s shop might contain.(This is only a concept that I have been thinking about. If I continue it the story may change. It’s going to stay as a one shot for now)
Relationships: Hosea Matthews & Arthur Morgan, Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde, John Marston & Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 1
Kudos: 46





	Read Between the Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Lol it’s really hard to type on mu phone so there may be a lot of typos. My writing is also very stiff; I get writer’s block easily so I gave up on writing for the most part.
> 
> I have no idea where I want this story’s direction to go if I continue, so this is all I can think of.

“Arthur? Are you up there, kid?” Hosea asked, gazing up and trying to see if his adopted son is sitting somewhere on the second level of their old bookshop situated along the outskirts of Saint Denis. 

When he received no reply, he grumbled and stood up from his seat behind his old, creaking desk that he had picked up off of the side of the rode one day when he and Arthur had been moving into a little shack near Rhodes a few years back. It had been toppled over, set randomly to the side of the main road. Hosea had impulsively thrown it into the wagon with their other meager belongings, not wanting to pay for one to be made or to make one himself.

He regretted his past impulsivity now, because no matter how much weight was put on it, it would creak and groan with every bit of pressure placed upon its chipped surface. A feather could land on it and it would still put up a fuss!

Hosea climbs his way up to the second floor and lights a lantern hanging on a nail nearby, using it to illuminate his surroundings. 

Piles upon piles of books were stacked wherever Hosea and Arthur had decided to randomly place them, cluttering the wooden floor. Worn leather-bound journals were thrown around as well, some with empty yellow pages and others filled with little sketches and doodles and other entries, most made by Arthur. Hosea kind of wished he had never gotten his son into drawing, for it was as if he couldn’t stop, but it’s not like he would deny his usually stoic and mopey son a chance to express himself, even if it was only in the private pages of a journal.

Hosea almost envied the damn things. He wished Arthur would be more comfortable talking to him by now; it had already been five years since he had picked him up in Valentine, dirty and nearly starving. 

He found the boy on a shadowed corner, asleep in a position that would definitely have left Hosea’s back aching for days. His hat’s brim was pulled over his face, and his current journal was tucked up against his chest, his crossed arms holding it in place. 

Hosea had been going to ask him to help him sort out a few piles of books onto the shelves below—it was getting a little bit too cluttered for the man’s liking—but he didn’t have the heart to wake him. They had only been living in Saint Denis for a month, and it always took a great while for Arthur to get proper sleep in new, unfamiliar places. 

The opening of the shop’s door interrupted his thoughts. When making his way back towards the ladder he nearly tripped over an inconveniently placed stack of dust-covered books. By the time he was back on the first floor, he was still grumbling, not bothering to look at who had entered.

“May I help you?” he asks, already picking up a stack of books and hustling around to place them on the shelves left from him and Arthur’s bout of laziness (rare, but not necessarily impossible).

“I-sir...I,” a boy’s stuttering voice replied, “I’m afraid I can’t find my father. I’m...a bit lost.”

The blond man turned from his work to see a boy, possibly about ten years of age, standing a few feet behind him. His messy brown hair reached his chin and he looked like he hadn’t taken a proper wash for a little while. The boy reminded him of Arthur when he had first run into him.

Hosea set down the books he was holding at the bottom of a half-empty shelf to be dealt with later and paced over to the boy, kneeling down a bit to look him in the eye. He knew it would scare the boy of he continued to look down on him when the child was lost and vulnerable.

“Do you know where you lost him, kid?” he asked gently. “Do you know where he might be?” 

The boy shook his head. “I-I don’t know this place too well. I lost him nearby, I think, but I called and he didn’t answer.”

Poor boy,  Hosea thought. “Can you tell me your name? And your father’s?”

The boy opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by the door being hastily thrown open.A dark-haired, well-dressed man enter the small bookstore, looking around before his gaze finally landed on Hosea and the boy.

“Dear God, Jim. You can’t go off by yourself like that,” the man said, walking over to them. He patted the boy on the head as he sighed in relief.

Hosea got back up to his feet as the man offered a hand to shake. He noticed he was a few inches shorter than the man (who was obviously the boy’s—John’s—father). The man was also a tad broader in the shoulders and chest, wrapped up in a sleek vest.

“I’m David Milton,” the man said when Hosea took the offered hand. “This is my son, Jim. My apologies for interrupting your day. It’s just, we’re new to Saint Denis and we still haven’t gotten used to our new surroundings.” He chuckles. “One moment, he’s right by my side, and in the next, I look down to find him gone.”

Hosea chuckled along, “Oh, don’t worry. My son and I have trouble finding our way around as well.” They don’t. They may have only been living in Saint Denis for a month, but, even though they rarely go into the heart of the city, both Hosea and Arthur have made sure to memorize the exact layout of their new home. 

“Pa? What’s up with all the commotion down there?” Arthur’s tired voice asked from the second floor. 

“Ah, I never introduced myself. Hosea Matthews. That up there is my son, Arthur. We own this humble little shop; arrived in Saint Denis about a month ago. Just a bunch of ol’ book, if you’re interested. Of course, you’ll have to wait until we’re open.” He was slipping back into his act even though it wasn’t of use at the moment.

He turned back to his work. Arthur had come down while he had been talking, placing his hat on Hosea’s desk and straightening his blond hair. He still looked rather tired, but at least he had rested.

The dark-haired man hummed. “We’ll come back sometime and check it out.” 

Hosea heard David lead his son out of the bookstore, the door creaking shut behind them. He continued on with organizing the shelves, Arthur—still shaking off the remnant of sleep—working alongside him. He thought nothing of his encounter with the handsome man and his lost-and-found son.

“What was the point in me doing that?” John asked Dutch, riding on their horses back to their camp settled in Shady Belle. 

“They weren’t open. I wanted to get a good look at the owner. Hosea Matthews may not be as active as he was before—and we’ve figured out why today—but that man’s name is still passed around every now and again,” Dutch replied. “I’ve been tracking down that book for ages, and based on the fact that the O’Driscolls have been contaminating this city with their presence, they’re coming close to finding it as well. No matter what happens, they’re not getting that book.” 


End file.
